


Tales of the SMP Masquerade

by choice_writes



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Gen, Rewrite, Web Series: Tales from the SMP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:54:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29727942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choice_writes/pseuds/choice_writes
Summary: Karl had spent the better part of a month in this new timeline. It was strange, there was a certain tinge to the air, a feeling of dread that he’d learned alluded to the presence of The Crimson. He didn’t know what specific events he was trying to change in this timeline, but he felt drawn to the upper classes.So he set to work, setting himself up in a temporary shack out in the woods, and socializing with the locals. He didn’t see anyone who he recognized quite yet, but when he caught wind of a masquerade taking place at someone’s mansion in the woods, he felt a familiar tug in his gut.
Relationships: Karl Jacobs & Everyone, Karl Jacobs/Sapnap
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	Tales of the SMP Masquerade

**Author's Note:**

> This is a dramatic writing of Karl's tales from the smp!  
> I hyperfixated on Tales of the SMP Masquerade, and i started the 1st chapter Wednesday. 1st post on ao3 so be kind, please.
> 
> i wrote this because i adored the concept, and wanted to rewrite it :)

Karl had spent the better part of a month in this new timeline. It was strange, there was a certain tinge to the air, a feeling of dread that he’d learned alluded to the presence of The Crimson. He didn’t know what specific events he was trying to change in this timeline, but he felt drawn to the upper classes. 

So he set to work, setting himself up in a temporary shack out in the woods, and socializing with the locals. He didn’t see anyone who he recognized quite yet, but when he caught wind of a masquerade taking place at someone’s mansion in the woods, he felt a familiar tug in his gut. 

Paying heed to his instincts, he set out to find himself a mask and a bit more information. It took a bit of bribery, but eventually he was able to weasel some intel out of a blonde named Hubert with the promise of a warm meal and some money to get him through a few days. The boy reminded him of a dear friend, so Karl was more than willing to help, especially with the promise of some information about the mysterious Sir Billiam. 

Hubert told Karl horrific stories about the man, speaking of how harshly he treated his essential workers. No food for weeks, leaving them on the cusp of death yet still expecting them to work. Karl watched with sympathetic eyes as the man rolled up a sleeve, revealing scars thicker than cables, some more fresh than others. Hubert expressed his worry for his second in command, who hadn’t been given a name but had apparently rejected Hubert’s offer for escape. Karl knit his brows together, something wasn’t quite right with that. 

Karl was given directions to the location of Billiam’s masquerade upon prompting the blonde. He expressed his curiosity about why Karl was so interested, but the brunette simply granted him a grim smile and gave his part of the bargain to Hubert. He wished the man luck, before waving and retreating to his shack. 

He shut the creaky door behind him, and slid to the floor with a groan of contempt. This was going to be more difficult than expected. Karl sighed, running a hand across the spiral pattern embossed on the leather of his book, contemplating whether or not he was grateful for this strange power of his. He scowled before rubbing his temple to dissuade the beginnings of a headache before deciding to retire for the night. He had a long day tomorrow, afterall.

The sun peeked through the shoddily made windows, and Karl was woken up from his sleep. He sighed, before getting up and putting on his usual hoodie over a white button up. Removing the bandanna he usually tied into his hair, he fastened it around his neck in the form of a makeshift tie. Scrubbing his face to get rid of any dirt and grime that had accumulated, straightening the unruly locks of his chestnut hair. He had to make sure he looked the part of a comfortable rich guy.

Throwing together a quick breakfast before rushing out of his shack, he nearly forgot to grab his masquerade mask before heading out. The mansion was a good hour or two’s walk, and unless he stole a horse he had to get going as soon as possible. 

The forest he was travelling through was quite large, and he was supposed to know that he was almost there once the dark oak trees around him turned into spruce. Pulling out a compass and a hastily drawn map (courteously drawn by Hubert) making sure he was heading the right direction. The trees cast dappled sunlight to the forest floor as Karl crunched through the brush and vegetation, enjoying the sounds of birdsong in the air as he traveled. 

After a while of walking and a couple of small breaks (he may or may not have gotten distracted by a fox) he could see a clearing in the distance leading up to a large mansion. Karl nervously fixed his hair and straightened his tie, making sure he looked presentable and not like someone who’d just walked for two hours in the woods. Once he figured he looked presentable enough, he walked up the stone stairs and knocked on the door.

After a few minutes, someone hauled the door open, and Karl spotted a head of familiar pink hair. The man looked him up and down, finally meeting his eyes with thinly veiled disgust. A nasty glare was directed at him, and Karl seemed to shrink into himself. “Hello. Who is this?” The unfriendly man asked. 

Karl smiled nervously, an evident waiver in his voice “I’m just in the area, why do you ask? Who are you?” The pink haired man smiled, showing sharp incisors. “I am Sir Billiam the III, the owner of this here mansion.” 

Karl decided to play dumb. “Why are you wearing that mask?” he queried. Sir Billiam raised an elegantly arched eyebrow, and responded in an elegant tone “I’m hostin’ a masquerade!” Karl let out a fake noise of realization, “That’s why i’m here, too!” he said cheerily.

Billiam huffed, “Well, the thing is I specifically said no poor people.” Karl let out another nervous laugh, cutting Billiam off so he didn’t get kicked out. “No worries! I’m not poor. You see, I’m a royal who was passing through.” Karl lied through his teeth, and Billiam seemed to accept that answer, the aggression leaving his ruby eyes.

“Ooh, a rich person! Alright, right this way!” Sir Billiam led the man into the house, shutting the door behind the two and sauntering up the stairs. 

“Butler!” he shouted, and a teen with a black and white mask rushed to the pinkette. Karl feigned disgust at the kid’s gaunt face in order to cover up his horror “Oh dear god, who is that???” he tacked on in a snobby tone. Sir Billiam folded his arm over his chest, using his other hand to gesture as he spoke. 

“This hideous poor person, a commoner,” he specified, snark clear in his voice, “Is my butler. I let him live here in exchange for absolute loyalty and 24/7 service, and sometimes I let him sleep!” 

There was a certain edge of proudness in his voice, sickening Karl to his core. He pushed back the revolting emotion in exchange for an incredulous “Really?” which seemed to please Billiam, if his pompous smirk was anything to go by.

Karl decided that Billiam’s ego didn’t need any more fuel. “That sounds like indentured servitude!” A slight edge to his voice alluded to legal action being taken. The masked butler nodded frantically and Billiam glared at the two before scoffing.  
“Commoners aren’t people! They’re poor! Poor people don’t have rights!” he said, as if the idea of the lower class having rights was such a silly idea. Karl gave a nod, and a lighthearted laugh. 

“How about you show me around the premises Sir Billiam? This mansion of yours is..quaint.” he put on the guise of a royal, deciding that he would play his self-given role to absoluteness. Billiam gave him an annoyed look, before rolling his eyes indignantly, and gesturing for Karl to follow him. 

The pink haired man cleared his throat before speaking. “I quite like the size of this mansion, it is my smallest one i believe. I feel like it’s size makes it feel quite homely.” Karl suppresses a smile, it felt pretty damn good to put Billiam on the defensive.

Sir Billiam led Karl throughout extravagant spruce hallways, golden swirls accenting the baseboards and railings. Karl couldn’t deny that the place was quite well made- and it was designed well too. There were a couple of spots that didn’t quite add up though. Conspicuously places buttons and pressure plates, an excess amount of closets and trapdoors, rooms that seemed to be too small for a simple mansion. 

Billiam never commented on the things that Karl had pointed out, instead prattling on about useless information and occasionally threatening his butler. Karl hid his disdain behind a carefully constructed mask (Both literally and figuratively, thanks to the purple masquerade mask obscuring his upper face)

Even with as careful as he was being, he couldn’t hide the nervous laugh bubbling out of his lips when Billiam mentioned his favorite painting. The wither painting brings unpleasant flashbacks up to the front of his mind, and accompanied by someone who looks uncannily like the blood god himself, they were more nerve wracking than if he’d been with literally anyone else.

Clearing his throat to get Sir Billiam’s attention, Karl brought up the whereabouts of the other guests. “Ah, well you see, you were actually quite early. We weren’t scheduled until noon at the earliest.” Billiam explained, making Karl feel small under his snobby gaze. 

The brunette snapped to attention as a loud knock sounded on the spruce door. “Butler!” Billiam hollered, waiting till the brunette was in view before administering an order. “Get the door!” he snapped

The teen nodded, and heaved the heavy spruce doors open.


End file.
